soldier
by sakikkususen
Summary: They're neighbors, until they're not. / leaf, green
1. i: five

He is five when he meets Leaf.

She's small and quiet and first hesitates when faced with a playmate, but with a push from her father she shows little hesitation in bold strikes and displays a talent for roughhousing that shakes Green to his core.

"We're rivals now," he tells her after a long day of introductions and running through a near-empty house with the old Growlithe who accompanied Leaf's family to Pallet. "When we're older and we have Pokémon, we're gonna battle, and I'll beat you!"

"Nuh-uh," she says immediately, little hands on her hips. Her lips are set in a stern pout, as though she's offended by his confidence. " _I'm_ gonna beat _you_! I'm gonna travel and make the best team ever. My dad said so. We'll see who wins then!"

"Fine!" he replies hotly, turning on his heel to march back home.

"Fine," she mocks, and doesn't wait to latch the door behind him.

* * *

 **a/n** you asked for leaf/green aoi

 _you got it_


	2. i: seven

He is seven when he hears the news.

He's always had his suspicions — they're neighbors, after all, and she can't very well conceal screaming and yelling and the sound of things breaking over the silence of a Pallet night. The occasional visit of Officer Jenny from Viridian doesn't help her case.

When she arrives at school the next day, five minutes after the bell, the teacher gives her a pitying glance and excuses her for tardiness. News spreads quickly in Pallet, and almost faster to Viridian. There are few who don't know of her parents' impending divorce, and yet she's the only one who is apparently unfazed.

"Sorry for taking off without you," she whispers as she slides into her seat next to his, tucking her backpack under her desk. "I wanted to see Dad. He's ten minutes up the road from here, so I had to leave early."

They've always walked together. The break in habit sends an uncomfortable signal off in his head. He knows that divorce separates families, and causes changes — but the break in their own traditions, without a thing being up to them… it bothers him.

"You could have seen him after school." He tries not to be angry, but he can't help the touch of heat that breaches his tone. She can hear it, and her face twists as though she isn't quite sure how to respond.

"There's supposed to be rain. Mom said to head straight home."

Leaf's always been an obedient child, independent or not. (That she's always managed to best him is another matter, but the juxtaposition of her with him and her with her mother has never seemed entirely normal.) "So what, your mom's word is it now?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "She's got… sole custody, or something. I don't think I'm gonna get to see my dad much anymore." She glances out the window at the bleak weather, taking account of the clouds smearing gray across the pale, ashy skyline. "Especially in winter."

Green finds it in him to regret his hostility. "Can you call?"

Her cheeks and ears pink ashamedly. "The power's out."

For a moment, he wonders why _she_ would be the one embarrassed. It isn't her job to pay bills and do the adult things his grandfather gripes about. "Gramps would let you use ours, y'know. The phone."

Leaf nods in recognition. "Yeah. I don't think I will, though."

"Why not?"

A pause. "You wouldn't understand," she says after a moment.

He stills, pushing his pencil back and forth between his hands to avoid looking at her. "He's your dad and you can call him, but you won't? Your parents are splitting up and you aren't even upset? _You_ don't even get it."

The flush of her face returns with a vengeance, and she stands abruptly, chair toppling backward on the carpet as she shoves away from her desk. Her eyes narrow, brows drawn, and with fists clenched, she turns to face him.

"You know what?" Her voice shakes, whether with sadness or anger he isn't sure. "You know what — leave me alone, Green. I _do_ understand. You… you're the one who doesn't. Won't." She almost leaves off there, but takes back up again in higher pitch, fists tight at her sides. "And — and your parents love you. They live far away, but they _love_ you. And that's…"

She drops off entirely at that, choking on her own voice as Green stares at her, shocked.

Another moment passes, the class still humming amongst themselves with typical second grade chatter, and Leaf turns to right her chair and collapse back into it, resting her head on her desk as her arms shield her face. Green deliberates, lying against his own desk and watching her shoulders gradually grow still. When she lifts herself back up, swiping at her cheeks with her sleeves until her face is sufficiently dry, he nudges her arm with his, waiting till her eyes are on him.

"Wanna walk home together?" he asks, and when her eyes light in response, he knows their storm is past.

(After school, as they walk among the chilled air, hands tucked into their coat pockets and huddling close for warmth among the breeze, he gets the feeling that the incoming rain says something for the future.

Watching her skip and duck between branches and tall grass, he hopes for the best that he's wrong.)

* * *

 **a/n** fun fact: he won't be wrong (insert laugh track here)


	3. i: eight & nine

He is eight when he gives his heart to her, and nine when he realizes she has no more heart to give, after he watches it break at the sight of her mother's tears instead of healing at the sight of his own.

Her parents' divorce changes her. At first, it's little things: waiting by the edge of town instead of on her porch before school, going on long walks after dark, not having so much time to play and spend time on Route 1. But over time she's grown quieted, hushed, as though her mind has become one big secret. Their classmates don't notice, but they wouldn't — they don't know her like he does. They grew up together, practically lived together. He _knows_ Leaf, and this muted façade isn't her.

Green has become so used to reading her, hearing her, knowing everything that goes on in her head, that the sudden silence feels like a wall has been built between them. The cutoff is like a slap to the face.

They still walk to school together — still bake cookies at his house on Fridays, watch cartoons on Saturdays, and explore Route 1 and practice battling with Growlithe on Sundays. She's still exceptional, in school and the field; but she pores over tomes and algorithms, ledgers and numbers, where he does not.

(She balances checkbooks, where he does not.

His grandfather says it's a crime. He says it's too much. Neither of them say it to her.)

Leaf's father moves further north to Pewter after much assurance from her that she will be fine and he doesn't have to worry; he finds work at the museum.

(The day after her father is gone, Green finds himself holding her together at the edges as she cries in his room, Growlithe whimpering on her lap. She climbed in through the window; her mother bangs on her bedroom door not twenty feet away, screaming and weeping, and Green doesn't ask what for.

Come early Monday morning, he's fallen asleep and his window is open, a blanket thrown over him with a hastily scribbled note on his nightstand. Leaf is gone, Growlithe curled into his side. He feels a little empty, knowing she didn't choose to stay.

 _Didn't want to wake him_ , her scrappy print reads. _Or you. See you at 7._ )

* * *

 **a/n** eyoo and so it begins


	4. interlude: secret

From an early age, Green can tell that there's something wrong with Leaf.

No — that isn't quite right. There isn't necessarily anything _wrong_ with her, per se — but something off. Green has always been clever, and a driven boy, most definitely. His grandfather tells him so, and his teachers tell him so. His parents praise him for his grades over the phone and through their letters. Everyone says the same thing: _hard worker, intelligent, just like Samuel when he was a boy_. Green adores the praise; he basks in it, drinking up every word with a winning smile.

But Leaf — she's different. In that Green prides himself on his success, maintaining an impressive ego for an eleven-year old, Leaf is content to hide her brilliance. And she is — brilliant. Green would have to be a fool not to notice. She just catches on to things, like a Pidgey to flight; she's the first to understand their lessons; to tend to the Pokémon in the lab; to lead Growlithe to victory in a battle. By nature, she's docile, with a certain aloofness, too, but when it's just the two of them, he can see her thoughts, the way she thinks her way through problems like no one else, a mind that burns its way through an equation like dry wheat.

Her grades hit the high marks every time, even above his straight A's. He loves attention, the love and affection lavished upon him every time a conference comes about. Still, he envies the level of astonishment Leaf is regarded with by adults — _bright, exceptional, a perfect child_. She's drawn out of regular classes sometimes for additional lessons, activities to test her memory and riddles to prod at her wit. They're played off in the form of games; pictures to redraw; books to read; words to recall; stories with holes.

Green loves the idea. He begs her to share some of the lessons with him, treats them as though they're something precious.

"I don't know." She frowns, tugging at an ashy ruffle of hair and winding it around a slim finger. "They aren't that fun."

"C'mon," he persists, grabbing hold of her sleeve. Annoyed, she pushes him away, but he holds fast and only pulls her along as he sways to the side.

Leaf sighs, righting her posture and pursing her lips, delving back into her memory to recall one of the countless story problems she's been given. "Daniel and Donnell both went to the café and were served identical drinks. Daniel drank slowly, and Donnell drank quickly. Daniel died, but Donnell didn't." Patiently, she waits for Green to think of what to ask to narrow down his answer.

He takes about ten seconds to speak. "Was the drink warm?"

A slight smile quirks at the corner of her lips. "No."

"Was there ice in the cups?"

Her eyes flash pleasedly, and she nods.

Several more seconds pass, and finally, Green answers confidently, "The ice had poison in it, and when it melted it went into the rest of the drink."

"You got it," Leaf praises him, glancing at the clock hung on the school's face. "In a few minutes, as well."

Green can't resist asking. "How long did it take you?"

"About a minute, maybe." She tucks her hands behind her back, idly kicking at a stray woodchip. There are other kids shrieking with joy not thirty feet off, dribbling brightly-colored rubber balls and weaving between tall metal poles painted in bold shades of yellow and blue. She's never been too fond of the playground, in all its loudly-inhabited steel-bar glory.

"New record, then?"

Just a bit, her smile tightens. "Yeah." He knows from the crease of her brows that it's touchy (though, more and more things seem to be entering that category, anymore) and relents, ducking to the side to give her a grin.

"Records are for chumps. I'm still gonna beat you."

The lift of her cheeks couldn't be a more welcome sight. She shoves at his shoulder again, laughing with him when he stumbles, and her eyes light again. "I'll beat you back."

With the topic of her mind displaced, the two continue walking around the perimeter of the playground, jesting and exchanging jabs and punches. They return to their classroom after a few more minutes, sinking into their seats thankfully at the shade inside. The class start a new assignment, this time a mathematics worksheet, and she promptly gets to work, penciling in answers just faster than he does. When she finishes she leans back in her seat, pushing her pencil into the well at the front of her desk with the tip of her finger.

He's never really understood. Doesn't she want her family to be proud of her? They are — of course they are — but it seems obvious to him that it's not quite her family's pride she chases.

Yes; there's certainly something off about Leaf — but that's a secret Green is content to keep to himself.

* * *

 **a/n** I'll have interludes every three chapters, most likely (if not more). I hope to start updating every week or two on this after things slow down, but I'm not sure how that will work; sometimes I'm not able to update for weeks at a time. it goes how it goes.


	5. i: ten

He is ten when he has his first real nightmare.

He's taken completely by surprise. It starts with the same general image he's had for years: a faceless figure of average height sits on the swings beside him and they pump their legs, chatting amicably with a nondescript voice about something or other. Feathered glances are tossed between them, and colorless, shapeless eyes zero in on every passing form, usually with a friendly wave or a shouted greeting in a neutral pitch.

Green finds himself watching another passerby who looms nearer until they stand straight before the set, heeled sandals speckled with woodchips and sandbox residue. Their form sprouts bobbed auburn-black hair, and colorless skin is dyed a light olive-orange. He turns to look at his fantasy friend for reassurance in light of the strange new woman, but finds that their shapeless, uncolored hair has faded to a pale ash brown and their height has been stunted, eyes slanted to resemble a Meowth's.

A tight ball of worry knots in his abdomen as the woman strides forward to collect a handful of the girl's hair and yank her away from the swing, mouth spouting horrible insults and petty comments that make his stomach turn with definitive slaps and hits so loud he can feel them in the air. The ash-haired girl leans her arms against the chip-layered ground, hard, and he can see her breathing heavily, chest and shoulders heaving as her head sinks.

Then the girl in his fantasy looks up at him, dark, verdant eyes making contact with familiar burning yellow, and Green finally leans to pull her away.

He awakes with a start, and the guilt gnaws at him even before he returns from his waking panic. How could he not have helped his friend sooner, and sat to watch her be kicked around and insulted by her own kin? He feels sick — _inhuman_ — to have mutely observed her being mistreated as he had.

Leaf mustn't know of his hesitance, he decides vehemently, and resolves never to fear for her sake again.

* * *

 **a/n** look at that i updated, it's a miracle


	6. i: eleven

He is eleven when he begins to pave his future.

"I'm gonna be the strongest Trainer ever," he declares boldly upon morning, as they lie in the grass beside his grandfather's laboratory. "And you're gonna stay with me, right? We _are_ teammates." He looks to her for reassurance.

"Of course," Leaf responds, arms stretched to pillow the back of her head. She rolls over to pat the crown of Growlithe's mane, smiling good-naturedly.

The breeze tousles her hair and the grass, and the light catches on her eyes. They remind Green of the sun. "Good," he laughs. "When I catch up, you better be ready for the best battle of your life."

He can hardly hear her over Growlithe's excited chatter.

"I'll be waiting," she says.


	7. i: twelve

He is twelve when Red joins their ragtag duo.

His quiet nature complements Green's headstrong character and Leaf's cautious apathy. The dark-haired boy integrates smoothly into their little group, finding his niche as Green's damage control.

... At least, that's how things would have been ideally. The reality remains that Red's own silent demeanor, while fitting neatly into the group, clashes with Leaf's hardened caginess and Green's own fervent pushiness. To Green, Red is a necessary presence; they accept one another, and are closely competitive, with the ties of a friend between them to bridge the remaining gap between interests. Leaf's walls loom higher than ever, on guard to keep from spilling sensitivities of her family's ordeals to ever-caring ears. It breaks Green's heart to see that she still considers friendship a danger, and he hopes against hope that one of them can help her see otherwise.

In the end, it's Red who opens her eyes. While Green first finds the advancement unexpected, it comes as little surprise that he is the only one of the two of them able to muster the willfulness to force her head out of the sand.

Neither of them wants to act too aggressively with Leaf, for fear of shattering the already strained relationship that treads a permanent balancing act. But Red decides that a change must be made when, during one of their excursions to Viridian's ice-cream parlor in the heat of midsummer, he sees the dark, fading bruises that creep across her back and out from behind the riff of her loose-fitting tank top, accented by the glimmer of sweat and heat. They're days old, but fester and yellow at the edges, and look as though they haven't been cared for.

"Come here," he beckons her with a whisper, and they all know from the command in his tone that he is not to be rebuked on this. He hangs his vest across her shoulders to cover the dark stains on her skin, and the muffled fear in her eyes, the realization that she had underestimated her own injuries, strikes him. The two walk off to the side where they converse in whispers, Leaf interjecting with half-assertions and gradually shattering expressions.

"Who did this to you?" he demands immediately.

"No one."

Red sends her a sharp look and her eyes dart to her feet. "That's not an answer."

"No one," she insists. "It's fine." Her voice hushes, and she reaches to brush a lick of hair behind her ear. A deep breath makes her chest heave, her skin flushed from the heat. "It was stupid," she murmurs. Her voice breaks off, dying away like a radio on a weak signal.

His hand ghosts across her arm, settling at her wrist. The contact makes her shiver, hands contracting at the influx of heat. She pulls away and situates her arms directly at her sides, close enough that it looks like they're tied to her. Red isn't offended in the least.

He makes no pretenses as though he understands her situation. "Things are hard," he says quietly, "I know. But it's going to get worse, and if you won't let us be there for you when it does, you will break."

Leaf finds it in her, buried past the passive exterior and thinly-shielded sadness, to bite back her words and state calmly, "It's fine. I can handle this."

Red's lips thin, dark eyes narrowing. "Think of it this way," he reiterates. "You're going to end up seriously hurt one of these days and we know it. And you're going to need our help, whether you want it or not."

"I said I can handle it," she hisses. "It's nothing."

"Things are changing, Leaf," Red reminds her gently as she turns on a dime and starts back to the table. "Don't make yourself stay. You deserve better — I think anyone would agree."

(He glances meaningfully at Green, and he knows she understands.)

* * *

 **a/n** and everyone's favorite legend joins the cast! kinda ooc. of course, I am altering the characters somewhat, just for the purpose of development. hopefully it won't be anything huge.


	8. interlude: don't speak too loudly

The night following elementary graduation, there are children out to play, dressed to summer comfort, all across Route 1 and the surrounding towns. Green and Leaf are no exception, shoes atop the small hillside leading down to the creek bed in Pallet, clothes dotted with dirt, dust, and broken leaves. The lab lights are on just up the slope, Samuel puttering around inside with assistants to make up for time lost at the ceremony.

Leaf's hair is in a fanciful braided updo, courtesy of Daisy, ever-present Growlithe at her ankles. She's decked in her favorite overalls and the flowers Green's sister wove into her hair, streaks of berry juice painted onto her face in bold strikes. Wild Pokémon emerge from the brush on occasion, readying in position to challenge the pair, only to fall with a puff of embers, hot air and mist.

(It occurs to Green, for the first time, that she is so ingrained in his life that he couldn't imagine it without her.)

They wade in the water, shivering from the ankles down. Green grins through the gripping cold of the rush on his feet, and Leaf's lips quirk up at the corners as she breathes, deeply, steadily, fogging up the dark air between them.

She releases a breath — slow, steady — pulls another in — while he skips rocks beside her. As Growlithe bats a paw through creek's slow, hazy stream, she laughs, bending at the waist to lift him into her lap as she collapses to sit with her feet resting in the water.

In an instant, between a twig creaking and the grass shifting, a face set with wide eyes and a gaping maw appears, overtaking the dark with vivid, saddened eyes. Her calm countenance, the sleepy set of her shoulders, vanishes.

Green peers up from the water, moon rays catching on his vision, and a hollow choke lodges in his throat. There sits a Rattata, one arm hanging limp and claws frayed and broken like crushed plastic. Its whiskers are twisted, some singed at the tips, others crumbling at the roots, and its left ear twitches, a tear in the cartilage visible even from a distance.

" _Leaf_ ," he whispers. His eyes dart from the injured Pokémon to the ash-haired girl and back, finally settling on the ringed tail pocked with bright pink bumps and scabs. "Should we… take it to Gramps?"

She burrows in on herself at the scene, digging wiry fingers into her pale arms, shaking her head after a beat. "We — we should wait. Just wait." A moment passes, and he sees blood on her lips. Its eyes are trained on hers.

Her teeth bite down on the skin again, and though he wants to tell her that breaking skin won't help anything, he quells the urge and sets forward. The Rattata shrinks backward, chattering shrilly, and disappears back into the brush, charred fur blurring into the inky shadows of foliage.

Leaf frowns down at her bare feet. He is reminded distantly that she has been hurt, too. She would know better.

* * *

Green and Samuel insist that she sleep over at the Oak house that night. She agrees, if only to appease them.

(There is no one home to say no, and there has not been for three days. She doesn't say this aloud.)

"Hey, Leaf," Daisy greets the younger girl upon their entering the front door. She sits at the table, papers in hand. Upon Green's questioning glance, she holds the pages up and taps the front with a smile. "Mom and Dad sent a letter. They're so proud!"

He snatches the letter and reads it with zeal, and shows a particularly heartwarming passage to Leaf. "They miss me... and wish they could've come!" He hands the crinkled stack back to his sister and can't hold back the grin that spreads across his cheeks. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

Though she shows no anger, Leaf avoids looking at him entirely. For a long time, he wonders if it's the Rattata's ragged appearance that's bothered her, or her odd kinship with the Pokémon.

He remembers, waking in the middle of the night, that during graduation, she was alone.

* * *

 **a/n** very little to say this chapter, except thank you very much for the support!


	9. i: fourteen

He's fourteen when a fight with her mother leads to her stumbling away and out the door while the older woman paces in front of the house, screaming into the cool April night for her daughter's return. He hears her, the crude lashes of _crazy, mean, bitch_ that make his stomach turn, and darts out the door to find Leaf, barefoot and red-faced, puffing out breaths that fog around her face and frizz her hair in the cold as she squints for glass in the dark.

She blindly clutches the arm he offers, a hand slung behind his back as he supports her weight with a steady grip. Her reading glasses are askew on the bridge of her nose, one of the hinges twisted and splintered like a snapped toothpick. There are spots of blood on her palms and around her feet, and her lips resolutely clamp shut. He sees gouges that smear crimson across her cheeks as she wipes her tears, and his head aches with fury.

Leading her inside with a deceptively calm hand, he sits her down at the dining room table and locks the door tight. Samuel pads in from the hallway, and the quiet sadness on his face, the understanding of something bigger than the usual claim of accidental injury, looms heavy over the room. Leaf's shoulders tighten, preparing to bear a weight Green could never imagine carrying, and as though he can sense her discomfort, the professor retrieves the medical kit from the cabinet, sets it on the table beside her, and disappears back into the hallway. Her posture relaxes, but she still sits stiff and wary.

"Growlithe," she breathes. "I — left Growlithe." The self-loathing in her voice doesn't come as a surprise so much as yet another sorrow. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." She berates herself under her breath.

It isn't necessarily anything new that she values the Pokémon's well-being so highly, especially under the circumstance that the little fire-type was with her even before her parents' divorce (and, more importantly, that he had been a surprise from her father when she turned three). But it worries Green, this insistence that the fire beast's safety comes before her own.

"Stupid," she repeats quietly. Her fists are tight; when he pries them apart he can see it, the splash of weeping crescents carved into her palms.

Green rests a glass of water in her hand and curls her fingers around it, watching her lift the drink to her lips and take a slow, deliberate sip. She chokes on her too-tight throat and he rubs her back, but she shivers at the contact and he pulls away, shaking.

"Don't you think this is going too far?" he says.

Her hands rest in her lap, tugging at the edge of her worn pajamas. They're small — tight at the shoulders, short at the ankles. A shiver wracks her back. "I don't —" Her tone wavers and dips, drops like she's divulging a secret. "I don't feel like _too far_ exists anymore."

" _Leaf_ ," he breathes. "You — you don't have to do this anymore. Gramps, Daisy, Mrs. Ketchum, they're… they _know_ , and they hate it. They want to help. You know that, don't you?"

She takes in a deep breath and winces as the slashes on her hands split, seams widening to stain her shirt cherry. "They're not _my_ family, Green." The glass stands idle on the table, her fingers twisting in the cotton of her clothing. They're long and pale and remind Green of dead spider's legs, tangled and knobby. "I know just what they'll say," she murmurs after another moment. "Her parents. I'm a wreck. I need to clean up my attitude. I'd better fix myself up before I ruin it all again."

"There's nothing to fix about you," he says sharply. "If there were more people like you in this world…"

She stares resolutely at her lap, and jolts when he runs his thumb over her knuckles.

"Well. Let's just say it's hardly deserving of you as it is."

Leaf smiles, but it's twisted and sad, and her shine, her brilliance, seems faded. "Are you sure about that?" Her voice wavers. "Because I'm not sure it wants me at all."

* * *

 **a/n** happy new year's, have an update


	10. i: fifteen

He is fifteen when he has his first real fight with her, a pained argument backed by the sound of fireworks and whistling branches. As Leaf stumbles away from him, breaking into a dead sprint a few steps later, Green's hands clench helplessly at the fencing by his waist as he contemplates whether to chase after her or let her be.

Eventually he sags against the wood, the last of the fireworks illuminating the winter sky behind him. Leaf probably doesn't want to see him at the moment, he reasons — not after he broke her heart like he did. He tries to convince himself that this is a good thing, that she needs to learn to survive without him as her family continues to splinter at the edges.

But the truth is that this hurts Green, more than he ever thought it would. He has always known the day would come when she would have to leave him behind.

He has dreaded it his whole life.

The fireworks have faded and the smoke has fizzled up to dye the sky a dreary gray by now, and finally, Green comes to a decision. Leaf has told him before that her family is none of his business, but she has also told him to do what he wants. What Green wants right now is for Leaf to find the happiness that comes in fiction, and if he has to meddle to make it happen, so be it.

Green swallows the shards of his broken heart, pads into his home for the phone, and punches in zero.

"I'd like to connect with Pewter, please," he says, and as the tone dials out, he forces his heart back down his throat and breathes.

* * *

 **a/n** so this'll be the last chapter for a while. the story will be picking up in a completely different swing next time, and i'll be taking a bit off to get things ironed out! thanks for reading thus far.


	11. ii: fifteen point five

"So."

Nerves frayed, Green takes a sip of his soda. "So." He closes his eyes and draws shapes on the glass's beading surface.

Marcus grins bemusedly. Despite the lighthearted atmosphere of the café they sit in, his gaze is strained, and his hands clench the coffee mug before him tightly. "How have you been, Green? It's been, what, seven years?"

"Seven," Green confirms.

"Last I saw you, you were so small." His gaze falls to study the wisps of steam rising from the house blend. "You've grown so much." A thumb strokes the side of the porcelain contemplatively.

An awkward hush falls over the pair for several minutes. Throat tight, Green lifts his drink for a sip, and takes a deep breath when he swallows. "Sorry to call you so late," he says.

"No, it's alright," Marcus insists. "I'd just gotten home. The museum closes late on Wednesdays."

"How's that going?" Green asks, more out of discomfort with the silence than genuine interest.

The older man drums his fingers on his mug dismissively. "Fine enough. Management changed recently, and I can't say I'm thrilled with the new director, but… what are you gonna do?" His smile wavers. "And Leaf hasn't been by since I moved. I thought that working there might make it easier to see her, since she always loved walking up to see the fossils, but her mother…" He trails off.

Green takes another sip of his soda. "I'm sorry."

Again, the man drums his fingers on his mug. "It is what it is."

A waiter steps over from the next table over, retying his apron as he speaks. "Welcome back, Marcus."

"Sammy," Marcus reciprocates. "This is Green, an old neighbor. Green, Sammy."

"Hello," Green says.

Sammy bobs his head to return the greeting and fishes a notepad from his apron pocket. "Can I get you two anything to eat? The special today is an Oran berry cobbler."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Marcus says. He turns back to Green. "Would you like anything? My treat."

"For here or to go on the cobbler?" Sammy asks.

"To go would be great," Marcus answers.

Green resumes tracing patterns on his bottle. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Ah, okay." Sammy takes off to retrieve the order, and silence reigns once more. "This is a bit awkward. Sorry. It's sort of surreal."

"What?" Green asks obligingly.

Marcus rubs the back of his neck, tanned skin darkening with an excited flush. "I haven't seen Leaf in seven years. It isn't exactly a secret among the town, I'm sure." He pauses. "And while I am worried about her — there's a reason Quinn and I separated, after all — I'm thrilled that I might be able to meet up with her again." A broad, unbidden smile, tinged as it is with worry, breaks across his face. "I wonder how she's grown, if she's changed much… seven years is a long time."

"Here you go, Marcus," Sammy says, placing a folding pastry box on the table.

"Oh, thank you," Marcus says. The waiter nods and disappears back into the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

Green shakes his head. His throat feels closed-off.

"I see." The older man shuffles in his seat and glances up to check the clock behind the counter. "Ah. I've got work in an hour, so… I have to run." He tosses a few bills onto the table. When he stands, he offers Green a hand. They shake. "It was nice to meet you again," he says, and Green knows, in his warm grip and his thankful eyes, he's genuine.

"It's nothing," Green murmurs. "I wasn't busy."

"Still." Marcus claps him on the shoulder, and Green wonders if this is what a proud father's grasp feels like. "Thank you for looking out for Leaf, Green. I can't say it enough." Then he pulls him close, just enough that the contact can be considered a hug, but not enough that it's uncomfortable. The warmth is oddly pleasant. "I'll take over now. You've done more than your share, son."

He starts out the door. Green takes a moment to let it all sink in, and runs after him.

"Wait!" he shouts, gripping the door frame. He nearly trips over his feet as he hastens down the sidewalk.

The man turns, brows raised, and waits for the younger to catch up. "Yes?"

"I…" Green pauses, and realizes he'd never thought of what to say. "Leaf is—" He scuffs his shoe on the pavement and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well. She's special."

Marcus' patient smile softens. "I'm well aware."

It takes another second to arrange his words. "She likes a light on when she sleeps," Green says. "And ice in her water. She can't stand cold showers. And — and she hates it when people don't check that the tap is off."

"I see." The other man laughs good-naturedly.

Green flushes. "Just… take care of her," he says. "Please."

Before he can think to say another word, Green takes off in the other direction, straight for home.

* * *

 **a/n** green is a sentimental garbage can confirmed, pass it on


End file.
